


Secret, Sweet

by APgeeksout



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Casual Sex, F/M, Foreplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 11:53:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APgeeksout/pseuds/APgeeksout
Summary: “It's okay that Charlotte's still your favorite,” Bayley says, smiling sweetly as she takes his hands in her own and places them on her breasts, like permission and a request both at once.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2017 Porn Battle Amnesty using the prompt words "secret" and "sweet", and to cover the "nippleplay" square on my card for kinky_bingo on dw. 
> 
> Set at some nebulous point in the early days of Bayley's first reign with the Raw Championship.

“It's okay that Charlotte's still your favorite,” Bayley says, smiling sweetly as she takes his hands in her own and places them on her breasts, like permission and a request both at once. Her skin is warm under his palms and unbelievably soft, and Corey likes to think he's good at taking a hint. He drags the pads of his fingers over her nipples, the dusky pink skin drawing up into firmer peaks in the wake of his touch. She sighs and arches her back a little, pressing him further into the back of the couch, pressing her knees tighter against his hips and resting more of her weight in his lap before she continues, “I won't tell her if you don't.”

"It doesn't leave this room," he promises, and rolls one nipple lightly between his finger and thumb to test her reaction. It's a good one; he repeats the touch on both sides at once, and her fingernails bite into the back of his neck before she replies.

"I always knew you were secretly a gentleman."

"There's that," he says, chuckling a little at the idea - he's not exactly Jack Gallagher over here - and at the sight of his own hands, all bold lettering and loud colors, against her delicate skin. "I'm also pretty sure no one would believe me."

"You'll just have to be my dirty little secret, then." She giggles, then, and tugs the remaining elastic band out of her ponytail, letting her dark hair spill loose around her shoulders before she leans down to wrap him in a quick, tight hug, all bare skin and warmth.

She's down to just a pair of polka-dotted bikini briefs - edged in lace, with a sweet bow at each hip - and she's long-since stripped him out of his pale yellow button-down and cotton undershirt, but it's her hair - the loose ends tickling at his face when he leans down to draw a line of kisses along the soft swell of her chest - that makes it real for him. The show is long over, but the Champ still wants to spend time on him. She must have turned down better offers from people almost as kind and sunny and good as herself. People who are already, or could one day be, champions too. He knows what regrets are like, and he's going to try like hell not to be one of hers. 

He nuzzles a cheek against her chest and closes his mouth over one nipple, teasing at her skin with his tongue and a graze of teeth, just as his fingers are doing to the other. She makes a pleased sound deep in her throat and rolls her hips against him. 

Her fingers rake into his hair, pretty much destroying the style. It's hard to mind, given it was already starting to wilt, his product losing the battle with the sweat breaking out at his temples. Harder still to care when her blunt nails scratch over his scalp as she winds her hand into the strands and tugs - not enough to really hurt, just enough to say that she means business. Just enough to go straight to his cock, still trapped inside his suit pants and beginning to strain against the zipper. 

The fingers of her free hand tickle along his shoulder, marking off the shape of the luchador inked there while he pulls against her grip to bring his mouth to her other nipple. He hollows his cheeks around the little peak of hard flesh and at the same time plays his fingers over the other, still slippery with his own saliva.

Bayley shudders against him, and her grip digs into his shoulder as she rocks her hips again. She breathes heavy - almost loud enough to drown out the wet sound of his mouth on her skin - and shifts above him, and he keeps at it until her sharp tug at his hair forces his head back and he finds her looking at him with dark eyes. 

"I'll tell you another secret," she says. Her voice has gone a little raspy, but no less confident for it. "Sometimes Charlotte's my favorite, too."

"Yeah?" It's not the most articulate response from the voice of the company, but she's shifted so that she's straddling just one of his thighs, and he can feel the heat of her arousal through her nice-girl underwear and the woven fabric of his pants; he figures he's allowed to be distracted.

“Yeah." She tips forward then to press a kiss against the skull on his neck. She grinds down against his thigh, and his throat bobs under her lips. He's pretty sure he can feel her smile blooming against his skin. "I may be sweet," she says, "but I know how to get what I want.”

His eyes fall on the Women's Championship, occupying the next couch cushion, its face gleaming where it peeks out from beneath his paisley tie and Bayley's discarded bra, and he knows he can't argue with that. Even if it's his job. 

"And sometimes I want all the tough girls to give me my due."

He's only human, and the image of what that might look like - The Queen paying her respects to Bayley - makes him throb inside his pants.

"And tonight?"

She lifts his hand from where it's settled against her hip and guides his fingers beneath the lacy waistband of her panties. "Tonight, I think we should aim to misbehave," she says with a grin.


End file.
